Polarities (It's What They Call Themselves)
by WithoutBounds
Summary: The Speed Force never intended for them to be enemies. They made that choice all on their own.
1. Mirage

The first time Barry saw his other was three days after he saw the speed mirage, three days after travelling through time, and three days after he kissed-Iris-but-not-really.

He'd been running home. The day had been long and hard, but then again, most days were. But it definitely didn't help that Barry still felt an aching loneliness after having Iris ripped away from him because of one mistake. To top it all off, despite Caitlin's explanation for his actions, the two of them - three of them, if you included Eddie - were still on thin ice... And Barry still felt like he'd robbed himself.

Later he'd describe the appearance of his other as sudden, but really, it wasn't. In fact, it had been soft and trance-like. It had left Barry speechless. They'd appeared beside him, flickering in like a candle sparking to life. Next to him, running next to him, was a golden being draped in red lightning, shining like a newborn sun. A human fire, and they were divine there, moving beside him.

It was strange, seeing another form next to him, so translucent it was barely there. He'd thought it was another mirage at first, but it couldn't be... The moment had been celestial, and for a time, they ran together. Moving in unison, his companion seemed just a curious about Barry as he was of it. Time began to ooze and drip between the two speedsters, dragging to a standstill. He reached out to touch, and something humming deep in his bones pressed itself against his ear and whispered;

 _My Champion,_

 _My Champion, who is good and true and right,_ _ **listen**_ _._

He wished he could remember what it said next.

The second time Barry saw the glittering speedster he talked to Dr. Wells about it. With it happening twice, he couldn't pass the vision off as a figment of the night, or an aftertaste of the adrenaline. The confession came in limping; a broken and uncertain thing that could barely be called a description of the events. He still wasn't entirely convinced those moments had been real. But Wells understood, as always, and his confidant had an answer.

"And you said this man was running alongside you? Matching your pace?"

" _Yes_ ," he stressed the word, carding a hand through his hair before throwing himself around to face the older man. His eyes were pleading, desperate, and Harrison's expression seemed to soften at the realization of just how scared The Flash was. It didn't stop him from taking a moment to lean forward in his chair, fiddling with something in his hands. Behind his glasses, the man's eyes were contemplative "So that means they were - are - a speedster," Barry perked up at that, he could sense the scientist was onto something, "And if they are… then they must be connected to the Speed Force, same as you. So what might be happening, Mr. Allen, is that this mutual bond is somehow connecting you when you run. You're seeing what could be called a reverse speed mirage. But instead of seeing yourself when you run at a certain speed -"

"I see my other." At that, a strange smile to creep across Dr. Wells' face. It only further confused the speedster. Groaning, the younger man scrubbed his face, moving to pace the floor again.

"Indeed," Dr. Wells had an impossible patience for the antsy speedster, and went on calmly, as if seeing strangers appearing beside you was a perfectly normal fact of life, "Whether or not it only happens while running is something we'll have to check, and it should also be taken into account that the speed at which you're moving may have some influence as-"

"No offence," Was he irritable today? "But I really couldn't care less about why it's happening. I just want to know how to stop it. I can't be distracted mid-fight by some random guy suddenly sitting right beside me - a second of my attention away from the fight and people could die." The younger man huffed, "So if you've got any ideas on that I'd love to hear them."

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to help you with that quite yet. With the help of the others, it might take months to even properly understand all the science behind this and…" Harrison trailed off, noticing how dark Barry's face had suddenly gone, "Do you not want to tell the rest of the team about this?"

The speedster sighed angrily, looking away from his mentor. He didn't quite understand the sudden possessiveness that had flared within him at the idea of telling anyone else. Barry kept his mouth shut about it anyway, opting to cross his arms instead. "No… Let's keep this between us."

"Well then," Harrison shook his head lightly, and for a second he was terrified his mentor would be angry, "If you ever want to come by the lab after hours to run some tests, you know where to find me." the older man looked up at his partner through his glasses, something like a fond mischief glinting in the doctor's eyes. Barry only nodded stiffly, uncrossing his arms slowly, and gingerly unclenching his fists before he went to leave.

"Oh, one last thing Mr. Allen," he turned his head to look at Dr. Wells, one foot out the door. There was an unfamiliar tone in the man's voice, "When did we start calling this apparition _your_ other?"


	2. Liar, Liar

"How much were you lying about."

It wasn't really a question. A question implies that one party is being requested of a thing and that the other is doing the asking hoping the one being asked follows through. But this was a demand. As in, this was not, in the slightest, up for debate. He was getting an answer. Barry's indignation was burning too bright for anything else, and betrayal was carved into the forefront of his mind like a fresh wound and it throbbed with a rage so vivid it was alive.

There was something special about having his mentor admit to it - to being his mother's murderer. It was worse than just suspecting it. When it was mere intuition, he could pretend. Dance the same dance he'd done the whole year and slip into the role of Mr. Allen easy as anything. But now...

He **hated** The Man In Yellow.

"All of it."

He _loved_ Doctor Harrison Wells.

((Something in him, familiar, foreign, pressed an idea into his mind the way it would press a coin into a beggar's hand; firm but gentle. It insisted the two feelings were not mutually exclusive. The speedster ignored it.))

The differences between Eobard Thawne and Harrison Wells were startling. Now, there was confidence where there had once been caution. Edges where there had once been curves. Teeth where there had once been a smile. Fury, raw and barely-contained, snapped like lightning beneath the younger man's skin.

Was the elder man's newfound smugness part of those changes or was Barry just blind to it until now? When he was dissecting the elder's every move?

No matter, there was no time to dwell on those. Not now. He needed answers. Proper ones.

"Even about…" the younger man made a disgruntled, sweeping motion, "This?"

Thawne wasn't stupid enough to not know what he meant. The inlaid connection between them went two ways, even with the other's crippled speed. Barry still felt like an idiot for not realizing his romanticised 'golden entity' had been his tormentor.

"That was a half-truth, nothing more." and the bastard's face twitched into a mirthless smile before he continued, "If what I'd told you was completely true then you'd be overwhelmed by the number people you saw. Because you'd be connected to every speedster in all of history - and there's been more than a few!" Eobard turned away for a moment, rubbing at the spot his glasses once were, and chuckling at some private joke.

"Let's just say some were more familiar than other, hmm? But that's irrelevant. Because we're different, aren't we?" Thawne moved again, this time his back facing Barry as he pulled hands through his hair, sighing. An air of vulnerability settled in the conversation, and Barry suddenly felt as if he was overstepping a boundary. "Don't tell me you can't feel it," the words were spoken with a quiet reverence, "The way our speeds spike when we're together, and how our Speed Force seems to sing at even the slightest touch." Thawne whipped around and was suddenly very close to the glass. "You never did like that aspect of it..." As he trailed off, a predatory glint became apparent in those blue eyes. Caution began to rise in Barry. "No. What we are... are Polarities." Meaning settled on the last word like the dewfall, and their eyes met. The gaze held, unwavering, a silent challenge to see who would break first. Something unspoken crackled in the air between them.

Barry flinched away from his other's stare, and marked himself the loser of their little game. A whine settled in his soul.

Nothing was said.

And then;

"There's a reason I called myself the Reverse Flash, Mr. Allen."


	3. For Eobard,

For Eobard Thawne, His Other had always been a part of life

Or at least, it had been for a time.

Because he was three when he pointed at an empty corner of space and said: "Fire man" with all the insistence a toddler could muster.

Because at age seven he played "by himself" in the forest behind the family's summer home, despite being constantly told he was too old for that kind of thing.

Because when he was in the eighth grade - when he was four years ahead of everyone else his age and somehow still _somehow_ not enough for his parents - and the first person he'd ever thought he could _trust_ told Eobard he was crazy. After all, "Everyone has imaginary friends, but no one convinces themselves they're _real_."

Because it was so much easier for them all to believe he was crazy than to listen to the constant plea. He just couldn't put into words what he saw - who he saw, the same way they couldn't understand that when he searched and searched for the right way to describe Him, his brain settled on _a man carved from fire_ on _A kind of ethereal thing_ on _Something Other_ on _Something His._

God knew Eobard didn't have enough things he could call his own.

It wouldn't be until he was fourteen that he found out that metahuman human meant something other than _dangerous_. That it meant The Flash. And The Flash meant hope, and freedom, and safety.

Blue eyes closed.

(He blew himself up when he was sixteen.)

And woke again.

The first sensation was that of a kiss to his temple. soft and feather-light. It made the lightning in him, newfound, roar. _Speed Force_ , it introduced and _You're early, beloved,_ it laughed.

For the first time in a long time, Eobard Thawne felt at happy.


	4. I think I'm dead, I think you killed me

Barry was screaming.

Barry was screaming because he felt like a _goddamn_ fool falling for this charade all over again. He wanted to curl his fingers under Zoom's mask and pull. So he could prove to himself that it really was Jay under that mask. Or maybe it was so he could prove that it wasn't.

But he couldn't do that. So he was screaming himself raw. He was going to carve out his lungs and yell until his throat throbbed and he started coughing up blood. Maybe then the pain in his chest would be justified.

The Speed Force had other ideas. It went over the damage he'd done with a touch softer than he deserved. Every physical wound Barry could hope to inflict was sealed before it had even begun to sting. All it meant was that by the time The Flash was doubled over, heaving for breath, bracing himself on his knees, his throat wasn't even sore.

He settled for the way his lungs burned as they gasped and gaped for much-needed oxygen.

"I guess we're both having shit days, huh?"

The Flash whipped his head around to face the speaker. It took him by surprise, if mainly because he'd at least expected some kind of warning from Cisco's meta alert. Next to him was Eobard Thawne, impossibly young, and standing a bit too close to the edge of the ravine for comfort. After a moment of processing, he came to the conclusion that this was not the time traveller he knew, but a result of their connection. A reflection of His Other, brought to him by the Speed Force. Perhaps it was trying to comfort him. Regardless, the fact Thawne was ridiculously tangible rather than the Speed Force's usual blurry mess was concerning.

His other's cowl has been pulled back, blond hair a ruffled mess haloing a haggard face. Slowly, the younger man turned to look at the red-clad man, and Eobard's gaze was full of a sorrow that confused him.

"Are you going to keep pretending I'm not here _Flash_ or am I going to have to come over there and make myself apparent through other means?" Venom laced words, but they lacked a bite. Briefly, the speedster wondered what he did - or what he will do - to upset this twenty-something version of his nemesis.

"What do you want me to say?" His voice must've been absolutely breathless, but The Reverse seemed to hear him.

But judging by the rather sheepish look that suddenly flashed over his face, Thawne didn't actually expect to get a response. Which meant he was picking fights. Barry filed that away for analysis; something was bothering his other - something he was probably responsible for - and secondhand guilt compelled him to resolve the issue.

Nonetheless, a silence fell, distorted only by the rushing of the waterfall below and The Flash's ragged breathing.

Eobard opened his mouth, as if to speak, but hesitated, closing it again. Barry watched all this the way you would a predator.

"I asked you a question, kid." Turnabout's fair play. And he was itching to regain control of the situation. Though admittedly his other only looked a few years younger than he was, so perhaps calling him a kid was a bit much. Really, it just made Barry

Thawne snarled and shot, "Do you hate me?" before breaking eye contact almost immediately after spitting it out, opting instead to stare pointedly at the rushing water below them. The brunette copied the motion, letting the roaring canyon wash over his next thoughts.

 _I love you,_ He wanted to say. _And I hate that I do. I would kill for you. And that terrifies me more than anything you've ever done. Because I just fell for the same damn thing twice because I was too busy praying it wouldn't be the same this time because_

"You killed my mother," he said. _But I forgave you too long ago._ He didn't. A quiet fell once again. This one was stifling, and awkward, and too full of unspoken words to be comfortable for either of them.

The scarlet speedster cracked first, "Why are you so…" real wasn't quite the right word here, but it was still fitting. Normally these connections were fickle things prone to impressions of feelings and shadows of shapes. But Thawne was standing there clear as day. "... _solid_?" he finished

It was like pulling a trigger. A Do-Not-Mention topic Barry hadn't realized they were avoiding.

Beside him, The Reverse Flash choked out a half-swallowed sob, which immediately got Barry's attention. No version of Eobard Thawne _cried_ and certainly not where his arch-nemesis could see him. Apparently not, because there was the blond, tears streaming down his face, and a fist shoved in his mouth, desperately trying to keep down the noise he was making.

The yellow-clad speedster swallowed thickly, "I think I'm _dead_. I think you killed me. And that all this is some kind of twisted purgatory," His voice hitched on those words, "I think the only reason I'm even here right now is because the Speed Force refused _to let me die_ and fucking _swallowed me whole_ instead _._ "

The speedster didn't know when he moved towards his other, but he was pulling Eobard into his chest regardless, coaxing the blond to press his face into the crook of the brunette's neck. He was almost surprised when his hands didn't just go straight through Thawne. A shuddering sob followed the action, and Barry buried his nose into the mess of hair beside him. Arms wrapped around his waist. And the scarlet speedster began to gently try and comfort the other man for a crime he'd yet to commit. No part of him could believe that he'd try and kill the Reverse Flash - that he could kill anyone. Especially not _his_ Eobard. However, it appeared he had.

"I didn't ask for this. I-" The blond cut himself off with a sob, "I don't even remember how it happened… One moment you were there and the next it's all just - _red_." With a warbling voice Thawne looked up at him and continued; "I think I'm _dying_ , Flash."

Something like pity settled in his heart, before he made what was supposed to be a comforting noise. Gently, so as to not spook the fragile man, he reached up to cup wet cheeks, one at a time, before caressing his thumbs across the tear stains in some kind of attempt to be soothing. It seemed to work because, after the first startled jolt, there was no other protest. Eobard even seemed to lean into the touch as Barry wiped away the new tears spilling over wet lashes and reddened cheeks. They were like that for a few minutes, just easing themselves into the calming silence that Eobard's sobs were slowly dissolved into.

Without warning, Eobard surged forward with a wild intensity, gloved fingers greedily sinking into brown hair.

And suddenly Barry was a very different kind of breathless.


End file.
